


Reunion

by Rattrina



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, French Kissing, Kissing, Licking, M/M, Neck Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rattrina/pseuds/Rattrina
Summary: Achilles goes to 'risk it all's and visits Patroclus in Elysuim.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	Reunion

"In the mortal realm we are ashes. Our history, our regrets and the emotional scars still reside in our shades. There is no death for pain, nor love, one cannot truly live without the other, just like us." Patroclus spoke in a mere whisper of a voice, his words drifted through the green of Elysium for only vases and pearly waters to hear. "Regrets, without them we are not mortal. They are brandished upon us and the burning is ceaseless." Momentarily escape could have come with a sip of elixir and other godly delights. The scolding of alcohol as it was poured down the throat would have helped him forget for a brief moment. He breathed in placebo breaths, the airless air of Elysium. That was all he could do, pretend to live.

The pad of footsteps, heavy, clumsy and graceless, swiftly became louder as someone approached. Patroclus did not bother to survey who drew closer and closer. He let most shades pass without response. He was just a part of the scenery, a chipped statue covered in overgrown plantlife. It was his strong belief that he was best left forgotten, a page torn from the history books. 

"Patroclus?" Hark, the voice which caressed his ears was the sweetest music. Patroclus was certain he was hallucinating wonderful things. The imagination was cruel, offering him glimpses of the heaven he had lost.

"Patroclus, you are just as I remember. It is like your image has been set in stone, a man in the glory of his prime."

His eyes closed as he melted into the feathery softness of the voice. He never knew his imagination could be so vivid. The voice of his lover Achilles sounded real. It must be a trick, a game the mind played when the pain is too much to bear. 

"Patroclus, please look at me."

Was he dreaming? Patroclus was certain that he must be. He rubbed his tired eyes before allowing them to wander to the figure. A gasp then silence as he held his breath, he recognised the feet. The memory of washing them was as clear as crystal. Other memories soon flashed before his eyes, the times he poured cool water over them after a long journey and rubbed soothing oil when they were sore. 

"Achilles?" He swallowed the lump in his throat. 

"Yes, it is Achilles." He trailed a hand through the abundant meadow of ebony hair which draped down Patroclus's back. "I missed your hair, burying my face in the softness and losing myself in the scent of sweet olives.I missed watching your curls gracefully dance with every movement. I missed brushing through until the shine was sealed."

Patroclus tried to remain resilient, after all this time he couldn't just crumble like a wall and fall back into his arms. So much had happened, a complex web of intertwining threads which had resulted in two warriors separated in death except for their ashes. Their ashes had been combined at Achilles request but they could have been alive together. It was a gesture tardy in the offering. 

What would happen if he turned to face Achilles? All his emotions simmered beneath the skin waiting to ooze through his pours and overwhelm him. "How does glory feel? How does it feel to be remembered forever by the living? Is fame all it is cracked up to be?" Patroclus had tried to be stone but his voice trembled with each question he asked. Hurt was the baseline of his words, a dull drum which continued to beat when he tried desperately to silence it. As hard as he tried it was impossible to push the hurt down until it was just indigestion. 

Achilles sighed deeply as the pain in Patroclus's voice stabbed him right in the heart. He believed he should be bound to Tartarus for harming the one he loved. "I was a fool. Can you forgive my foolishness?" His fingertips followed the trail of hair down to Patroclus's back and rested there. His skin was as soft and yielding as he remembered . "Glory is empty. Fame is redundant to a corpse. My legend means nothing to me now. There are no fruits growing on the branches of my legacy. Love was the fertile fields. I should have believed in love and ignore my lusty appetites for the superficial."

Patroclus felt like his heart had turned to lead and had weighted down his tired limbs. He had no energy for fighting. War had a brutal scenery of carnage and despair which fed on the memory with a parasitic hunger. He did not desire to be a warrior wielding weaponry or words. "If only we had been gifted with foresight, we could have been together enjoying the sunshine instead of languishing here, fading here."

Those hands, they seemed to penetrate through the skin and touch his heart. Patroclus was weak to the power of touch. They were rough from toil and fierce battling, rough enough to grate upon his skin. They were the true hands of a warrior, powerful and destructive yet they had only ever been gentle to him. There were no words, nothing felt potent enough as a response. Sometimes actions were a better orator, a poet to convey the deepest heartfelt emotions. Lip upon lip; the gentle kiss, Patroclus let his facial hair brush against Achilles skin. Eye met eye and stared for the longest time. They were lost in each other. Happiness, it had been such a fleeting feeling for what felt like eternity. The pair mirrored smiles and embossed the expression upon one another's lips with a few more kisses. Kisses were the words in their private conversation. They spoke of desperation, drunken joy, the starvation of lust, needy, breathy and hot kisses, tongue coiled in tongue, saliva was paint and the lips were the canvas. Their arms were no longer arms but had turned to rope of flesh and bone. In each other they had tied themselves up and refused to let go. Sweat mixed with sweat to create a unique cologne as they feverishly touched to ensure what was happening was real. 

"I missed the taste of you, the feel of you and that gentle brush of your beard upon my lips. The last time I touched you it was horrendous. You were cold and lifeless. It was just your body, an empty tomb, but I tried to fool myself, pretend that an essence of you still lingered within" Achilles fought back a tear. It would have been unbecoming to cry. When one single droplet trickled down his cheek Patroclus caught it upon his finger and wiped it away. 

"I am ready to forgive and move on." Patroclus pressed a kiss as an offensive against further tears. "You were ready to risk it all to come and find me. Fear is for the weak and you refused to give into the fear of rejection or resentment. However for us to move on you must give up juvenile things; needless rage and glory hunting."

Achilles cupped his face in his palm and penetrated deeply with his cerulean eyes. "Thank you my sweet Patroclus. I always knew your heart was enduring and strong. I should have listened to your heart. Believe me when I tell you that all I desire is you. Glory is not love. Vengeance is not love. Being by your side and holding you in my arms always is love."

It was the time to surrender, pull back the defences and let love in. Patroclus did not know why but he trusted everything Achilles had said. Should he had been more sceptical or more cautious? No, fear was for the weak, he had to be brave to let love blossom again. He allowed Achilles access to every part of him, heart, soul and body. Achilles nuzzled into his neck and showered it with lava breathed kisses. A soft moan escaped his lips as he let his lover devour him and use him as blessed escapism. 

Patroclus's moan was the sweetest music to his ears. He yearned for more music, more notes in the tone of moans and coos. He pined to hear his name repeated over and over until it was immortalised in Pat's lips. He no longer hungered for fame, only to be infamous as a lover in one man's heart. He staked his claim, marked his territory with sensual slow neck smooching, long lavish licks and a carefully placed lovebite. Pat grimaced slightly but Achilles soothed him with more kisses. 

Their hands found each other and upon contact their fingers weaved together. "Achilles..." When he heard his name he felt his heart stop a moment before it begun to sing in his chest. "Yes Pat?" His voice was stifled by kisses. Patroclus drew back, pulling Achilles with him. "We should go somewhere more discreet. Unlike Theseus I do not wish for a stadium performance of our bond." There was no objection as Patroclus led Achilles to the river bank underneath a cobblestone bridge. 

The shadows veiled them in a gloom, concealing their tender intimacy. Noses caressed and lips met as Achilles laid Patroclus upon the soft soil. Achilles relieved himself of his tunic, once exposed Patroclus reached up and drew little circles around the nipples. His fingers were artists drawing excruciating slow designs over his pecs. Achilles felt his knees weakening, nearly buckling with every sensual swirl and line. Whilst tracing designs Patroclus never broke eye contact; intensely, adoringly looking beyond the windows of the eyes to his heart. 

Patroclus moved his hands lower, following the silhouettes of each well defined bulge of muscle. Lips soon followed as he kissed each scar in turn. Achilles burnt with need, trembled with desire and love. For so long he had been starved of affection guarding the lonely halls in the House of Hades. Now he was being fed with touch, sweet, precious touch, and it left him wanting more. 

Such talented hands could turn a warrior into a ruin, into a sybarite. Achilles was no longer a warrior but a man of love and kindness. He would willingly surrender his weaponry to Patroclus. He groaned a little louder than intended as Patroclus cupped his cock and rolled his balls with his thumb. Breaths turned to pants which were staggered from deep within his throat. He did not believe that he deserved to feel this good. He was a killer, often mercilessly so, was it right for him to be experiencing such affection? He was incapable of pondering an answer when Patroclus trailed his fingers over the cum stained head and continued the sweetest torment of drawing slithering designs in it. 

A caress of beard accompanied Patroclus's tongue as long pathways were licked up and down the shaft whilst his fingers continued to tickle his balls. Achilles swallowed a moan as he cooked in arousal. A surge of lightning which filled his bloodstream with an irresistible rush started in his cock. He tossed his hair back in the hypnotic sway of lust. Oh how he had missed this! Forever in Death; he had longed for these treasured moments. Patroclus engulfed him, filling and sucking upon his cock. He bobbed his head in a mesmerising rhythm as he softly gargled and slurped. All the while Patroclus peaked up at him with his smothering eyes. Achilles loved to sizzle in his beautiful gaze. 

It was good, almost too good that it hurt ever so sweetly. Achilles found speaking increasingly difficult. He pulled Patroclus away before he exploded down his throat. "Not yet, not yet." The words were coarse and spaced by pants. Eager hands helped Patroclus out of his clothing. For a moment he admired the view of yielding muscle covered in thick mats of ebony hair. To him Patroclus was perfect with his obsidian lustre and a peppering of scars detailing his history. Achilles carefully distributed his weight on Patroclus, using one arm to keep himself lifted. With his other hand he rubbed his cock over Patroclus's anus. Kisses were plentiful but more forceful, open mouthed and determined in a manner where they seemed to be eating each other's faces. Patroclus held himself in a V, trying to contain his eagerness as Achilles seemed intent upon making him wait. 

Just a tease of head stretched Patroclus's anus, a taster of more to come. Achilles delighted in his tempting as he rubbed his cock between Pat's tight buttocks. "Remember the nights we spent just stroking and kissing, trying to resist sleep so we could just be. Then there were the nights with eyes closed we would just let out hands discover pleasure."

Pat buried his hands in Achilles long golden cascade of hair, it reminded him of a lion with a proud mane. "Yes, of course I remember." He spoke with heavy breaths. "Those memories both soothed and tortured me. You are insisting on making me wait, making me beg for you to fill me. Oh sweet cruelty just take me Achilles, I am yours and will always be." Achilles grinned slightly at the irritation and desperation in Pat's voice. He stole another sweet kiss from his lover as he scrolled in precum on his inner thigh. "You want me to rush? You are a delicacy worth taking the time to truly appreciate." His soft words changed to feisty nips around the crescent moon ring of the ear as he pushed his head fully inside to a welcoming gasp. Pat was virtually sucking him in, swallowing him while with his anus blinking in blissful contractions. Slowly, ever so slowly he penetrated ensuring every wrinkle and ridge were felt."Feeling full? " Achilles grinned as he pressed his expression into Pat's ear. 

Moans were swallowed as their mouths became a union of slobbering mess. Patroclus knew his hands had grown addicted to Achilles hair as he lightly pulled and tangled himself. Achilles indulged in delicious thighs, stroking them with tender affection as he rocked and swirled his hips in a sultry dance. They writhed together, rising and falling like restless waves. Their bodies trembled with the intensity of pleasure they shared as they continued to consume each other's breaths. 

It was delicate torment to be brought to the edge and then denied. Achilles had done so by withdrawing suddenly with a shower of kisses. Pat groaned disappointed and frustrated as his fidgety body moved in discontent. Achilles picked him up and pushed him against the cool stone of the bridge. Pat hissed as the coldness tingled his nerves, causing an earthquake of shivering throughout him. Powerful Achilles penetrated harder, deeper with a series of sharp thrusts. Patroclus muttered inaudible things in the burst of pleasure. His expressionate face told of his love, his need and his addiction. They were both addicted to each other. Eye to eye they stared deeply as the gyrations hastened in pace. Pat squirmed and tightened in the slightest motions which felt earth shattering to his lover. Low grunts a erupted from the pit of Achilles throat as the pressure in his cock grew immense. Under these grunts were whispers of devotion and love, felt but not heard. Pumped his cock as he was held in place, anything to increase every sensation. Achilles grimaced as the pressure continued to build and build along with an incessant temperature rise until... He filled Pat with his cum, a confetti of relief powdered his flesh. Everything felt cottonspore soft and light, the invisible anchor which weighted down his shoulders had been lifted. He lingered in position, allowing his cock to marinate within as he panted in time with his lover. 

"I had so much to say to you, so much to discuss but instead of talking we....well." Achilles chuckled as he nuzzled and kissed his lover. Pat joined in with the chucking, a little quieter and softer. "Our bodies needed a conversation before our voices, sometimes that is the way of things. Our bodies missed each other as much as our hearts and minds."

"So it seems! My lips are yearning for more conversation." Achilles couldn't help but smile. There was a peace residing within him, a true peace and the sense of completion. Without Patroclus he was only half a man, the remnants of a warriors but now he had rediscovered his heart and his purpose. 

"Are they? Well my dear, my lips are quite keen as well. Let our words be kisses." Pat playfully sucked and pulled on his bottom lip. Achilles grinned as he relished the mouth play. "We will have to talk soon but for now I think I can survive on kisses." Their union had not gone as expected. He had expected coldness and blame. Patroclus had been quite the opposite. He had been a beacon of forgiveness and warmth. He felt loved, what a wonderful feeling it was. He had forgotten what it was like. Unfortunately he still had the duty of guarding the House of Hades to attend to. If it wasn't for his obligations he would have spent his death joined with Patroclus. For now they could be company, he could linger inside heart and body. With such a special feeling why would he ever want to leave?


End file.
